How a 600-Mile Cancer Charity Ride Helps Me Honor My Dad's Memory

I did my first Pennsylvania Perimeter Ride Against Cancer in 2007 as a cheap, weeklong bike vacation with friends. For six days you ride 500 to 600 miles from the start—which changes each edition—back to Palmerton, Pennsylvania. The biennial event raises money for the American Cancer Society. I paid the $1,000 fundraising minimum out of pocket.

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At the time, my dad had some early-stage cancer cells in his prostate, but it wasn’t a big deal. Or so I thought. By 2009, the cancer had metastasized. But treatment seemed to be working, and he was also planning to undergo radiation. I thought I’d return to the Perimeter Ride that summer with a success story to tell: My father was fighting cancer and winning.

But by 2010, he needed chemotherapy and was involved in some clinical trials. As months passed, I watched the strongest man I knew wilt into a frail bag of bones. I had to learn how to pull him out of bed without hurting his weakened shoulders, the same shoulders that just the summer before could outdrive me on the golf course. He died the following June, a month before the 2011 PPRAC.

I’d missed so much work taking care of him that I couldn’t do the ride that year. But my wife, Christine, drove me out for two days of it. It felt good to be with my Perimeter Ride family, but afterward I got sad, depressed, and then pissed off. Why even do the ride? Where was all this money going? Why was my dad gone? I talked to a therapist who helped me realize thousands of people are helped by the kinds of clinical trials my dad did, many of which are funded by organizations like the American Cancer Society. I also realized the ride was a celebration of my relationship with my father, who had been a huge supporter of my cycling.

By 2013, I was no longer asking for money so that I could do a ride. I was doing it to help other people’s fathers live longer. Now I volunteer with the planning committee, and this past year, Christine and I raised more than $8,000. I used to feel like charity rides were more “Look what I did” rather than “This is what we raised.” But when you have a personal connection, they give you the power to make a real difference.

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My dad’s memory also keeps me motivated during the ride itself. Last year, I woke up the morning after a rainy 100-mile ride feeling utterly defeated. But I remembered how my father, in the few months before his death, would still iron his khakis and dress shirt before chemo appointments. He left me with that lesson: No matter what’s going on, you suck it up and get yourself together.

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